hanging/pending, contradictory, unstable and gentrified self portrait, smelling like malt, stuck in the traffic jam, needing to take a shit since a while ago, listening to martha debayle, the next day having read 'campo de guerra' by sergio gonzález rodríguez, attempting to escape from the mystics of efficiency and competitiveness, with no signal on my cellphone, and dreaming about devouring a juicy papaya following the beat of 'demolición' by los saicos, 2014